Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Winning a Popularity Contest

The winter
of 2000-01 was a grim time in Israel.It
was the time when turning on the news was an emotional experience. Waiting to
hear the headlines, my stomach would tense and it was only after hearing the
weather forecast and knowing there had been no terror attack would I be able to
relax. It was the time when my ten-year-old would start his day with the same question
on his lips. “Did anything happen last night?”It was the time that we would be traumatized over and over again with murders
and injuries to fellow Jews. Those attacks would be carried out by faceless,
Arab murderers and we would know they could easily happen to any of us.

That was
also the winter after my mother had died. Six months after her death my father
was beginning to get anxious about the unveiling. I understood the importance
of attending the ceremony but, at the same time, could not bear the thought of
leaving Israel. What if something would happen while I was gone? What if my
children would need me?

My father
also needed me so I left home accompanied by a heavy heart for a long journey.
When the plane finally landed in Chicago I was eager to call my family I had
left behind.For over sixteen hours I
had been out of touch with the world.My
first question on the overseas wire was “Were there any terror attacks?”

My anxiety
was a sharp contrast to the carefree attitude of the other travelers. This was
before 9-11 and security checks were at a minimum and air travel was still a
pleasure. As I stood in line to board my flight to Wichita there was relaxed
bantering between the passengers. Suddenly I noticed the man standing behind me
in line. He was wearing a black, velvet skullcap and prayer fringes. Obviously
a religious Jew, he looked out of place with the other passengers. Surely he
was in the wrong line. Although I really did not want to speak to a strange man
I knew I had to say something.

“Excuse me,
do you know that this flight is going to Wichita?”

He smiled
and nodded.

“Do you,” I
swallowed in amazement, “live in Wichita?”

“Oh, no,” he
shook his head, still smiling, “I’m going there for business.”

I nodded,
relieved that he did, indeed, know what he was doing. I felt rather foolish and
then he questioned me.

“Do YOU live
in Wichita?”

With my long
sleeves and covered hair I guess I looked as out of place as he did. I shook my
head and also smiled. “I’m on my way to visit my father.”

Usually the
flights to Wichita are not crowded and this one was no exception. Still, as I
found my aisle seat I saw I would have a neighbor. A woman in her forties,
probably a few years younger than me, had the window seat. As I settled my
carry-on bags around me the Jewish man wished me a good flight.

“You know,”
he told me. “I never knew there were Jews living in Wichita.”

“Of course
there are Jews living in Wichita,” the woman in the aisle seat exclaimed. “I’m
going to my cousin’s son’s Bar Mitzvah.”

“Oh, you’re
related to the Levs*!”

“How did you
know?” she asked me as the man moved on to his place.

“My father
told me about the Bar Mitzvah. I grew up with your cousin.”

We smiled at
each other. I felt the most relaxed I had been since leaving home. Here were
two Jews on the flight with me, two Jews who could sympathize with all the
traumas I had been through the past six months.

Only that is
not what happened. The man had moved on to his place and as for the woman,
well, her attitude was not exactly what I had expected. It all started out
pleasantly enough. She told me that she lived in a small New England town and I
told her I lived in Shilo, a small village in Israel. She knew that Shilo was
where Chana had come to pray for a son and I was impressed that she had paid
attention to the Rosh HaShanah Haftorah reading. She also knew that Shilo had
been the Biblical capital of Israel for 369 years but, she admitted, she knew
nothing about modern day Israel.In
fact, she told me, her attitude to Israel had changed 180 degrees to how she
had felt growing up.

“What do you
mean?” I asked reluctantly.

“I’m really
embarrassed by the way Israel treats the Palestinians.”

Woo! My face
flushed and my heart began beating rapidly as I tried to decide how to respond
to this woman.

“Do you have
any idea what it is like to get on a bus to go to work and not know if it will
be shot at or not? A friend was on her way home from teaching, sitting
innocently in a car, not hurting anyone and she was gunned down, murdered.

Sara Leisha hy"d

What
would you like Israel to do to prevent all the terror?"

“How can you
prevent any terror?” she asked philosophically. “How do you stop those crazies
who shoot up a classroom or McDonald’s?”

I did not
like her comparison. Those “crazies” were exactly that, people with mental
problems. Our Arab terrorists were in complete control. In the classrooms and
McDonald’s there were random victims. In out terror attacks the victims were always
murdered for one reason, because they were Jews.

“You know,”
I struggled to keep my voice steady. “There is a lot of unfair reporting in the
media.”

“Really?”

“You know
that picture of the young Arab boy and his father that was splashed all over the
front pages at the beginning of the Oslo War?”

“That boy
that was murdered because he was caught in the crossfire?”

“Right,
after an investigation they are almost certain that he was killed by Arab fire**,
not Israeli, but that was never on any front page.”

“No,” she
shook her head and I wondered if she believed me.

“And when a
school bus was bombed and teachers murdered and children maimed how many
headlines were there about them?”

One of the many terror attacks on a civilian bus

“I don’t
remember hearing about that.”

“Of course
not.” I tried to minimize my sarcasm. “They were Israelis! Sometimes outright
Arab lies are in the news, but most often it is distorted truth.”

“Like?” She
was obviously skeptical.

“Like when
they report the Israeli army chopped down Arab owned orchards but they don’t
tell you the reason the army leveled the trees was that they were used as cover
for snipers.”

The woman
shook her head. “It’s such a mess but I’m sure there are some people who want
peace.”

“Of course
there are.” I was happy to be able to agree with her about something. “But not
their leaders. Barak was willing to give almost everything away but Arafat
preferred war. The world says the settlements are the problem but that doesn’t
make sense. The PLO began in 1964, the Six-Day War was in 1967, and the first
settlement started only in 1968. What were the PLO’s goals except to destroy
Israel?”

“I don’t
know. What do you think the solution is?”

I was not
sure if talking about G-d would be politically correct so I used an example.

“When I was
growing up one of the big subjects was Soviet Jewry. I wrote letters and signed
petitions as I’m sure you did.”

She nodded.

“I don’t
know about you, but I really thought it was a waste of time. Nothing would
change. And then, suddenly, ten years ago everything did change. Thousands of
Russian Jews were able to come to Israel! No one predicted it. No one could
have imagined it. It was a miracle and someday, we will have a miracle in
Israel, too.”

“I hope
you’re right.”

At that
point the stewardess began passing out snacks. This was back when meals were
still served on domestic flights. It was a welcome interlude. The conversation
was very intense for two strangers. We spoke of light, mundane subjects until
the plane landed.

“I hope I
didn’t offend you,” the woman spoke sincerely as she gathered her belongings.

How could I
answer that? It pained me to know that other Jews were so quick to condemn
Israel. I took a deep breath.

“I hope I
gave you some food for thought.”

That
happened over a dozen years ago and off and on I have wondered about that
woman. I wonder if her feelings toward Israel changed after the peace motion of
expelling thousands of Jews from their homes and giving Gush Katif to the
Arabs. Did she approve when Israel dismantled numbers of security checks or
imposed building freezes as goodwill gesture? Now that Israel has agreed to
release one hundred and four murderers from jail for the privilege of sitting
at a negotiating table has her attitude changed maybe ninety degrees?

I am not
interested in winning a popularity contest with the world. I am interested in
surviving. I do not believe that we will
have peace by painful concessions or building freezes. Peace will come only
from G-d and only when we deserve it. Let’s forget suicidal goodwill gestures
and start being better people. We have a month until Rosh HaShana. Let this be the year that HaShem will decree true peace.

*not the
real name

** There is some evidence that the whole story was a
hoax. See Doctor:
Here’s Why Mohammed al-Dura Really Died athttp://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/169402

4 comments:

Thank you for this post. I am sure many of us have experienced this nearly-tragic disconnect with fellow Jews -- and you described the feelings so well, I could feel my own breath shortening, my own heart beating more rapidly. The only difference is that I tend to get tongue-tied under pressure, and you did us proud. :-)

Aim of Blog

Emunah, faith in God, does not mean believing only good things will happen; it means believing that whatever God does is for the best. I wrote these words at a time when drive-by shootings and suicide bombers had become almost weekly, if not daily, tragedies. Now, more than ten years later, the words are no less true. Whatever HaShem does is for the best. It is my hope to post articles, advice, and homey stories everyweekwhich will reinforce this fact. And now, a special thanks to:

Batya Medad, my neighbor and experienced blogger. Without her I would never have been able to set up

About Me

Born in Wichita, Kansas, I became a Baalat Teshuva, newly religious, in Phoenix, Arizona while attending ASU. After twelve years of marriage my husband and I made Aliyah with five children and settled in Shilo in the heart of Israel. Two more children joined the family as have daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, Baruch HaShem. My favorite past times are learning, sewing, hiking, reading, cooking, baking, enjoying my family and friends, and, of course, writing. My first novel, Sondra’s Search, was published in 2007 and I am working on the sequel.